


In the Shadow of Vesuvius

by PhosphorousGrapefruit



Category: Cambridge Latin Course
Genre: Clumio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhosphorousGrapefruit/pseuds/PhosphorousGrapefruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clemens runs into the rubble that is Pompeii 79 A.D. to find Caecilius, and escapes with Grumio who perhaps has feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of Vesuvius

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually something I wrote for an English assignment, so it's kind of something I wrote in one night and didn't go back to.

August 23, 79 C.E.

My lungs scream for air and legs beg me to stop, heart pounding and arms pumping through the fiery remains of what was once my home. Rubble burns everywhere and hot flames bite me, ash ridden air contaminates my lungs but I cannot stop. Somewhere in this familiar hell hole is my master and those who I’ve come to know and love, and it’s my duty to save them… Save them or die trying. The crowd rushes around me mercilessly, pushing me back and back as I try to surge forward, the sound of screaming women and crying children pounding in my eardrums.

My eyes are dry and stinging, but I’m able to make out my master’s villa, coughing and aching. I only let myself pause for a second, however, before taking in the greatest breath I can and plunging into the house. 

The first thing I notice upon entering the once grand villa is that everything is gone. No, not gone, but destroyed, on the floor and in pieces. Busts of Caecilius’ ancestors lay in shatters, paintings that took the pictor hours to perfect, everything fallen and shattered and in a mess. But, there’s nothing I can do now but to find my master and get him out of here. I can only hope that his wife and prodigy son, Quintus, have already made it safely out of the city. 

“Caecilius! Caecilius?” I call, coughing on the smoky and ashy air. My heart jumps a little when I hear no response, but then I hear Cerberus bark. Cerberus, the mangy mutt. I never thought I would be capable of being glad to see him. 

Cerberus leads me through the atrium, past the culina and triclinium to Caecilius’ study, where I hear a groan of pain.

“Cerberus… Cerberus…” It’s clearly Caecilius moaning in strain. “First my wife and son leave me, now not even the dog stays to my death…”

“Caecilius!” I exclaim. My master appears to be stuck under some sort of heavy object… I walk closer and see through the haze that it’s parts of the study’s walls, fallen on his body from the chest down. I run to get a cup of wine for him, then rush back and kneel by his side, raising his head to allow him to drink. He takes one sip carefully, and then another as he recovers his senses.

“They’ve gone, Clemens. They’ve gone and left me and now I shall die alone, with only my slave and a filthy beast by my side. No glory, no sense of contentment, nothing. I shall never see my son grow old. Clemens, it is my wish to free you. Take this ring before I die, Clemens, for I know I am closer to death than ever before. Give it to Quintus. And send Metella what remains of my love. Give it all to her, freedman. Promise me you will.” Caecilius murmurs some more words, some of it inaudible to me. But I sit, I promise, and I listen to the ramblings of a dying man, with a million conflicted feelings on my back. This man, my master for the greater part of my life, has of course led a life I cannot say I fully believe in, slaves and labor and such. But he has endowed freedom upon me, Caecilius and all his renown. I think, though, he is a man I would have wanted to be friends with, had I been given the luck of being born a free Roman citizen. He was smart and talented, and above all had quite the mein. I wish greatly for him that he would’ve died among his family and friends, among all of his riches and spoils, but mostly his ever beloved wife and son. But, on the other hand I’m glad Metella and Quintus would not have to see his death, as Metella would most certainly fall into a depression, becoming even more of a recluse than her normal self. And Quintus… Well, who is to say what would happen to the boy. Caecilius finally falls limp in my arms, and I cannot successfully mask the cry that rises in my throat, the tears welling up in my stinging eyes as I lay down his body on the rubble and close his eyes. And I’m forced to turn my back on him one last time, facing the very chaos that killed him, and will kill me if I’m not fast enough.

“Cerberus. Come, now.” I call for the dog, not particularly because I enjoy his company, but because this isn’t a journey I wish to face alone. That, and there have been too many deaths today, and I wish to save any more that I can. He whines in response, and rests his long muzzle on the body of his now deceased master, the sadness and mourning of almost a human glinting in his eyes. Caecilius’, no, Quintus’ ring is heavy in my clenched fist, and I don’t ask for Cerberus to follow again.   
I’m walking out of the study and into the atrium when I hear it, the sound of rocks shifting and a muffled, “Clemens? Clemens are you out there?” My heart soars with hope when I hear that familiar voice, the voice of the one and only coquus, Grumio. I hurry over to the area the noises come from, forgetting my grief as I pull away at stones. 

“Grumio, are you okay in there?” I get some muffled grunts in response as the rocks peel away to reveal a tired, scratched up but seemingly okay looking Grumio. Despite all that is currently happening, his predominant eyes catch my own before he’s grasped me in a lung crushing bear hug. I wrestle him off and allow myself a moment’s look to ensure he’s okay before we’re off, running into the still present chaos of the Gods. We trip and stumble and fall on our faces, but we’re together and we’re surviving and the flame of hope burns brightly. We fend off hot ash and rock, but we’re getting away from the city, leaving all that we know behind.   
I’m skimming a crowd of people fleeing Pompeii, looking for my ex-master’s son and his wife when it occurs to me that we two, Grumio and I, could be in danger of a penal threat. Our master died alone in his villa with only the word of a slave to count on, and the court’s never shy about unfair slave treatment. But, I reason with myself, these are rather wild circumstances and our chances of impunity are higher than the average. 

We do it. Grumio and I, we make it out of the city alive. I wonder what future awaits us, hope that we will be reunited with what remains of our master’s family, though I suppose he isn’t my master any longer, and if we were to mysteriously disappear we would only be presumed dead. But I owe him, Caecilius, I owe him for my freedom and for the relatively easy life I’ve lead under his command, at least it was a slave’s luxury. I owe it to him to make sure that Metella gets his message to her, and Quintus receives the ring. I owe it to him to ensure their safety for as long as time allows. And I’m not one to break a promise.


End file.
